


Incalescence

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Community: conhaythsecretsanta2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Antecanis for the <a href="http://conhaythsecretsanta2014.tumblr.com/">Conhayth Secret Santa 2014:</a></p><p>“It’s summer and Connor keeps running around half-naked because it’s so hot outside; and Haytham cannot concentrate on his work like this…!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incalescence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antecanis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antecanis/gifts).



> It was actually really nice to get a summer prompt for a Christmas fic, seeing as I live in Australia so my Christmases are always boiling hot. 
> 
> Happy holidays everyone! <3

When Connor had invited Haytham to accompany him to the Homestead and stay with him for a time, the last thing he had expected was for his father to simply take over the Davenport Manor’s office and resume writing his letters and missives as he did at his own manor.

Connor had hoped this would be rather like a holiday for them both, with no other Assassins or Templars to bother them, and their only company the other Homestead residents.

It was a hot summer’s day, yet the Grand Master _insisted_ on cooping himself up in the house, claiming he still had far too much work to do to go “gallivanting around in the forest,” as he put it.

The Assassin rolled his eyes. At least they dined together each day, and at night there was no question that Haytham’s time belonged to Connor, and vice versa. Nevertheless he couldn’t deny he’d been hoping for more.

Perhaps he could speak to him about it over dinner.

In the meantime he had some chores that needed doing, considering he’d been left with nothing better to do.

Heading over to the woodpile outside, Connor shrugged out of his Assassin robes and stripped off his shirt, leaving him in only his breeches and boots. It was much too hot to be wearing all his usual layers.

He had plenty of wood from Terry and Godfrey, but it was too big for the kitchen fire so needed to be split. Taking up the axe from where he’d left it last time, he placed the first block of wood on the platform – an old tree stump – and split it neatly down the middle with a strong downward swing.

Repeating the process several times, Connor soon had a sizeable pile of wood that ought to be a sufficient amount for the week.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the Assassin began to carry the wood inside to be stored against the wall in the kitchen.

Perhaps he’d go for a swim when he was done – splitting wood was hard, sweaty work, especially in the blistering summer heat.

 

Looking over his various papers and letters where they were scattered across the desk, Haytham sighed. He’d have liked nothing more than to go outside and get some fresh air, but he was Grand Master, and such a title came with certain responsibilities. He’d have a break _after_ he was finished.

Still, he couldn’t help staring out wistfully through the window, wishing he could enjoy the sunshine and see what Connor was up to instead of being stuck inside.

Movement outside caught his eye, and he stood and walked to the window to see Connor, stripped to the waist and raising a large axe over his head in a smooth arc, cutting cleanly through a block of wood.

The Templar swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

Even from this distance he could see the muscles of his son’s arms and stomach rippling with each swing, and his skin was shining with a thin sheen of perspiration.

It was positively indecent, thought Haytham, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away, responsibilities be damned.

Connor truly was a sight to behold, all bronze skin and toned muscle. Despite having had plenty of opportunity to personally explore the Assassin’s body, the vision he made amongst the dappled sunlight was still able to take Haytham’s breath away.

Apparently finished, Connor began piling the wood and carrying it inside.

Seeing that the show was over, Haytham attempted to return to his work, though his mind was filled with images of his son, half-naked and glorious as he was.

He put his quill back down with a sigh. He couldn’t possibly work like this.

Standing, he traipsed down the stairs just in time to see Connor put the last of the wood safely away in the kitchen.

“Father,” Connor said, surprised. “I thought you were busy today.”

“I was,” Haytham said tartly, not quite able to drag his eyes away from Connor’s bare chest no matter how hard he tried. How he longed to feel that taut flesh and muscle tense beneath the play of his fingers, the touch of his tongue.

Giving himself a mental shake, he forced himself to look back up into Connor’s face instead.

 

Connor might not have always been especially perceptive when it came to other peoples’ thoughts, or at least not the extent that his father was, but even he couldn’t miss the way the Templar’s eyes lingered hungrily on his bare skin.

He smiled to himself, making a split-second decision.

“I am going for a swim,” he explained. “You are coming with me.” Without waiting for an answer he grabbed Haytham by the wrist and dragged him behind himself, not letting go until they were both outside with the door firmly shut behind them.

“Connor,” Haytham began sternly.

“No,” Connor interrupted him, “no more work today.”

Haytham sighed heavily. “It’s too bloody hot to argue,” he relented, already feeling the glare of the sun’s rays despite only wearing a shirt without his additional outer layers.

Connor’s mouth twitched in silent triumph, and he led the way through the trees to a small secluded lake, where he pulled off the rest of his clothes without hesitation and performed a perfect swan dive into the water.

 Haytham rolled his eyes at the younger man’s behaviour, though couldn’t smiling a little at his enthusiasm. The water _did_ look pleasant. Perhaps he’d just put his feet in for a bit...

Pulling off his boots and rolling up the legs of his breeches, he found a comfortable perch by the edge of the water, immersing his feet up to the ankle and sighing in pleasure.

Resurfacing, Connor’s gaze found Haytham and gave him a look of disapproval. “Do not make me pull you in,” he threatened.

Haytham just smirked. “You wouldn’t dare.”

In hindsight he really should have known better.

Surging forwards through the water, Connor soon had a firm grip on his father’s legs and before Haytham could so much as kick him, he’d been dragged into the water, clothing and all.

Re-emerging from the cool water with much spluttering and coughing, the Templar fixed his son with a look of supreme displeasure. “Was that really necessary?” he spat, beginning to remove his sodden clothing and set it out on the grass to dry.

“Yes.” Connor did not look at all repentant, dark eyes shining with mischief.

Haytham didn’t know whether to punch him or kiss him - anything to get that satisfied smirk off the Assassin’s face.

He decided on the latter, pushing himself through the elbow-deep water so he could grab his son by the shoulders and capture his mouth in a furious kiss. It was biting, punishing, but Connor did not complain, instead moaning happily as he pressed their wet bodies flush together.

Eventually the kiss softened, though became no less heated, Haytham having been quite riled already from his earlier sight of Connor, while Connor was just happy to have Haytham out of the house, with his full attention on him instead of his work.

His hands roamed hungrily over his father’s water-slick body, grinding teasingly against him and enjoying Haytham’s surprised intake of breath against his mouth as their arousals brushed against each other.

“Enough,” Haytham gasped, pulling away at last. “I am not doing this here in the open like some kind of uncivilised...-” he broke off at the look Connor gave him, dark and feral.

Without dropping his gaze, the Assassin stepped closer again, his confident hand finding Haytham’s cock beneath the water and taking it in a firm grip.

“I am not feeling patient today, father,” Connor growled, beginning to stroke. He smiled briefly, a fierce flash of teeth, before continuing, “We will do this on my terms or not at all.”

“Very well,” Haytham replied slowly, trying not to look too enthralled by Connor’s sudden assertiveness. He rocked slowly into the hand that held him. “Make your case.”

Connor’s eyes darkened further in lust, and he leaned in to kiss Haytham again, quick and hard.

“Out of the water,” he ordered softly against his ear, letting go and stepping back to fix Haytham with his intense gaze. They were sufficiently cool now, and the water would serve only as an irritant in any further activities.

Haytham swallowed despite himself, desire flooding him and compelling him to obey. Wading back into the shallows, he climbed out of the lake and back onto the grassy bank, followed by his son who had a distinctly predatory look on his face.

His expression was soon mirrored by Haytham as he noted the way Connor’s wet skin shone in the sunlight, his body dripping with water.

Once both men were safely back on dry ground, they reached for each other, the contact soon devolving into a heated tussle on the soft grass.

Amidst the kissing and shoving and biting, Connor was able to pin his father to the ground through his superior size and strength.

Haytham glared up at him, eyes burning in frustration and want. Then, very slowly, he tilted his head back, baring his throat in acknowledgement of his defeat.

Connor’s eyes widened briefly at the unexpected gesture - one predator recognising another – before a pleased smile spread across his face, wolf-like, and he leaned in to bite down on the sensitive skin of Haytham’s throat.

The Grand Master groaned, tangling one hand in Connor’s wet hair and pulling him up to kiss him, enjoying the feeling of Connor’s muscles tensing and bunching as he moved against him.

Connor knew Haytham wouldn’t consent to being taken outside like this, especially with nothing on hand with which to ease his passage, but that didn’t matter. Concessions could be made.

“Father,” Connor began, stroking Haytham’s cheek with deceptive gentleness. He paused uncertainly, wondering if this was such a wise suggestion to be making.

He bit his lip, barely noticing the ravenous look in Haytham’s gaze as he followed the action. Taking a breath, he pulled his courage together. “I want your mouth on me,” he said bluntly, glad that he sounded more confident than he felt.

To his surprise Haytham looked... relieved?

“I thought you were going to ask for something else,” he admitted roughly. It wasn’t as though Connor hadn’t taken the dominant role before, but like Connor had suspected, Haytham hadn’t much relished the idea of offering the same under these circumstances.

Connor sat up, only to have the breath knocked out of him as Haytham took the opportunity to pull him down, quickly moving so he was the one on top.

The Assassin gave Haytham an annoyed look; he’d been hoping to see his father on his knees before him.

Haytham snorted, probably guessing his thoughts. “Don’t push your luck, boy,” he growled, kissing him deeply. Connor would have absolutely no reason to complain when he was finished.

Moving down, he delighted in teasing his way down Connor’s body, enjoying the strength that lay coiled in his chest and abdomen.

“Father-” Connor protested impatiently; he was in no mood for foreplay.

Haytham gave him a wicked look but acquiesced, lowering his head to engulf his son’s cock in the wet heat of his mouth.

Connor moaned in pleasure, hips jerking; Haytham had to hold his hips down to prevent himself from being choked.

Licking him with playful laps of his tongue, he took him further inside his mouth and down into his throat, sucking purposefully and enjoying the sounds of unbridled pleasure that began to spill from Connor’s lips.

Finding a lazy rhythm, Haytham moved up and down his shaft, lips sucking, teeth dragging ever so lightly against a sensitive vein.

The sensations made Connor writhe and shudder beneath him. Laid bare to his father’s attentions as he was, there was little more he could do but squirm and moan in helpless abandon, hoping desperately Haytham would have mercy and grant him release.

Haytham was very pleased with the image his son made, all sprawled out and desperate. Finally deciding he had teased for long enough, he swallowed Connor down one last time, fingers tightening their grip on the boy’s waist.

Connor came with a strangled cry, panting breathlessly as Haytham slowly drew back, licking his lips in contentment.

“Satisfied?” he inquired smugly.

Connor could only blink dazedly at him, cheeks still flushed as he fought to catch his breath.

Haytham chuckled indulgently. “That’s what I thought,” he drawled, pressing teasing fingers to oversensitive flesh just to see Connor hiss and jerk.

Sated and heavy-lidded, Connor reached up to pull Haytham towards him, crushing their mouths together with lazy affection.

“Your turn, father,” he said when they had pulled away again, pleased when Haytham let him roll them over and push him so he was flat on his back.

Taking the Templar’s rigid cock in hand, he began to stroke. Slowly at first but gathering pace, taking pleasure in the way Haytham’s breath quickened as he thrust up into his grip.

Impatient to see his father come undone, as he himself had only moments ago, Connor did not tease for long. He stroked with a purpose, hand moving in long, hard pulls that had Haytham groaning softly, hips jerking.

It wasn’t long until he had spilled with a muffled gasp and jolt of his hips, breaths laboured as Connor continued to stroke him through his orgasm.

Tired and comfortable, the Grand Master lay back, making a contented noise as Connor lay next to him on the soft grass and curled up next to him.

“Now aren’t you glad you came outside?” Connor teased slyly, pressing his lips to the mark on Haytham’s throat.

Haytham made a grumbling noise in response, unwilling to admit to anything, least of all that his son might have been right. It didn’t stop him from wrapping a possessive arm around Connor’s waist however, drawing him even closer so he could kiss him thoroughly.

“I suppose your ideas aren’t _always_ completely foolhardy,” he said begrudgingly, smirking as Connor just growled and kissed him again.

It was possible that Haytham’s productivity levels dropped dramatically over the rest of the summer, but somehow he didn’t really mind.


End file.
